


Coming Home With Lucius

by iamisaac



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 03:47:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3104435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamisaac/pseuds/iamisaac





	Coming Home With Lucius

_**Harry Potter: Lucius/Sirius**_  
 **Request:** Some Lucius/Sirius dub-con, possibly hate-sex with background Lucius/Snape. Taking place after Snape and Sirius have left school, but not before Azkaban?  
 **Rating** : NC17  
 **Word Count:** ~2500  
 **Author’s Note** : Acknowledgements to my very brilliant beta, [](http://versipellis.insanejournal.com/profile)[**versipellis**](http://versipellis.insanejournal.com/).

Sirius was drunk. Very drunk. And he intended to be drunker before much more time had passed.

“I’m going to have nothing more to do with my family,” he had sworn three years ago when he’d run away from home. And he’d meant it.

So what was he now doing at a family party, surrounded by pure-bloods, Death-Eaters and people he’d hoped never to see again?

Oh yes. Getting drunk. And glaring at everyone. And drinking some more. And doing some slightly blurry glaring at people. And drinking.

One thing about his family was that they did provide alcohol – good quality alcohol in good quantities. This didn’t make up for the fact that they were a load of God-awful snobs and obnoxious dark wizards, but it did help to anaesthetise his aggravation. Which was fortunate, because there was a lot to get aggravated about.

Sirius tried not to think about the last family get together he’d been to. He had been fifteen, and he’d ended up somewhat worse off for the fight he’d picked with seven of his relatives – though he still remembered with pleasure that it had taken Bellatrix six weeks to get rid of the painful purple spots he had hexed onto her face. She was here again this time, of course, smarming up to the Family and showing off her new husband. Lestrange. Put into English, ‘the strange’. It suited Bella. If anyone was strange, she was. Bitch.

He glanced around. Cissy was here, too, with her husband, the thrice detested Malfoy. He had grown his hair since school. It suited him. Sirius blinked. Had he really just thought _It suited him_ ,as if there was anything positive about Lucius Malfoy?

 _Actually_ , his subconscious said slyly, _he’s really rather a sexy man._

Sirius looked away fast. The last thing he needed was thoughts like that. Annoyed, he realised that there was a bulge in his robes giving away the nature of his thoughts (though thankfully, not the person involved in them). For God’s sake, he was heterosexual; and even if he hadn’t been (which he _was_ ), Lucius Malfoy would be the last person he’d be interested in. Not only was Lucius quite blatantly and shamelessly a Death Eater, he was (a) married to Sirius’s cousin, and (b) allegedly sleeping with Snivellus Snape. The very thought of going anywhere near someone who had the bad taste to take Snivellus into their bed was repulsive. Yes, it was, Sirius told his rebellious erection resolutely. He turned back and gloomily examined his empty champagne flute. He could demand a refill from Kreacher – but that was someone else he would rather not ever go near again.

“Pensive, or merely intoxicated?” a voice behind him inquired.

Sirius turned his head quickly – a little too quickly, truth be told – and looked straight into the face of the last person he needed to see right now: Lucius Malfoy.

“Fuck off,” he said succinctly. Or rather, tried to. In fact, thanks to his alcohol consumption, what he actually said was “Fuff.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow.

“I see I have my answer.”

“Fuck off,” Sirius said again, this occasion taking his time and enunciating his words with the firm diction of someone determined at all costs to make himself perfectly clear.

Lucius smiled.

“Why? I am enjoying myself. And after all, I really don’t think that you’re in a position to force me to leave.”

Sirius lurched towards him, but unfortunately his unsteadiness led him rather to fall into Lucius’s arms than to complete his attempt to punch him. Unfortunate, because Sirius was still hard, and the feeling of Lucius’s body close to his had an all too predictable result. He groaned, and pressed closer; his sense of appropriateness taking a badly-timed holiday. Lucius was so close, so masculine, so… _bloody_ sexy.

“On the other hand,” came Lucius’s voice in his ear, evidently much entertained, “I could always take you home. I don’t feel it would be kind to allow you to attempt it yourself.”

The small sober fragments of Sirius’s brain told him that this was a bad idea, and he half-heartedly attempted to disentangle his limbs from those of Lucius’s. But the light touch of Lucius’s hand on his back; a few whispered words… Sirius, thoroughly inebriated, and with the feel of Lucius’s body fresh in his mind - was never going to refuse.

Lucius’s arm was around him; he was vaguely aware of Lucius excusing them both; of floo powder in a chimney; of a whirling that did nothing for prospective sobriety; of landing in a heap with Lucius standing over him.

And then no more.

***

Morning came, but remembrance did not dawn with it. It was not until Sirius, stretching and turning over, felt his arm push against the firm warmth of another body that he opened his eyes to see a blond head and a pair of amused grey eyes watching him.

“What the…?”

Sirius was suddenly aware of a dampness on his sheets. The awareness was followed by a realisation that he felt… not sore, but – used. He sat up suddenly.

“What the **hell** are you doing in my bed?”

“Watching you.”

The answer was lazily uttered, but Sirius could see that Lucius was expecting a reaction.

“What. Are. You. Doing. In. My. Bed?” he asked again, ferocious threat in his voice.

“Obliging you.”

“If you think that there are any circumstances in the _fucking world_ that would make me want you here…”

“I do,” said Lucius smoothly.

“What?” Sirius was caught off his stride.

“I do think that there are such circumstances. In fact, I can be quite certain of it.”

Unbidden and unwelcome half-memories were drifting into Sirius’s consciousness. Drinking. Drinking more. Seeing Lucius. Wanting Lucius. Coming **home** with Lucius.

“Shit,” he said fervently.

“On the contrary, it was very good.”

“Fuck.”

“Yes, that.”

Sirius clenched his fists. Then had a horrible feeling that he’d tried to hit Lucius the previous night, and that it had not ended quite as planned.

“Get out.”

“The trouble is, you don’t mean it.”

“Yes I do.” Sirius could feel the marks on his palms where his nails were digging painfully into them. “Get out, or I’ll make you.”

And Lucius… Lucius had the fucking effrontery to smile.

“Very well then.”

He was looking expectantly at Sirius, no hint of movement in his demeanour. Sirius made to rise, realised he was naked, and pulled the sheet around him for modesty’s sake.

“Get out.” He was itching to hex Lucius, but apart from any other concerns, he realised that he didn’t have the faintest idea where his wand was.

“I think you’ll find you promised to make me,” mocked Lucius.

“Right.” That did it. That was the last bloody straw. “Yes, I’ll make you,” growled Sirius.

Ignoring the fact that he – and presumably Lucius – was naked, he pushed back the sheets, and strode purposefully around to the side of the bed where Lucius was lying.

“Get out. Get out now.”

In answer, Lucius put his hands behind his head, and looked enquiringly up at him.

“I beg your pardon?”

Sirius whipped the covers from him, and grabbed his elbows.

“I want you gone,” he said through gritted teeth.

He pulled Lucius from the bed, but Lucius’s nude body was now pressed against his once more; and to his humiliation, Sirius found that morning and (comparative) sobriety had not reduced the effect that this had on him. Hastily pushing Lucius away, he said angrily

“Get dressed and go.”

Lucius shrugged, and turned to look for his clothes and – no, Sirius told himself, he was _not_ disappointed. He was relieved to see the back of him ( and oh God, what a back, what an arse…) and would be grateful when he was out of his house and out of his life.

“You’re certain?” Lucius queried.

“Yes.” Sirius pushed down the doubts.

“A pity…” Lucius had bent down to his robes, but instead of lifting them, he had taken a wand from his clothes.

Sirius closed in on him, his hands locking around Lucius’s neck.

“Don’t even _think_ of trying to hex me,” he murmured.

Lucius had a faint smile on his face as he dropped the wand.

“I wasn’t intending to. I merely wished to get you a trifle nearer. Because…”

He leant in. Sirius had not anticipated this; and he could do nothing but gasp as Lucius kissed him firmly on the lips.

“Because…” continued Lucius silkily, “I still suggest that you don’t want me to leave.”

Sirius pulled away, though with not as much firmness as he would have liked.

“Only utter scum would fuck someone too drunk to say no,” he said angrily.

“You’re not drunk now.”

Sirius wasn’t so sure of that. Not only had he consumed enough alcohol the previous night to make him smashed for days to come, he was also finding Lucius _extremely_ attractive. Despite everything. Which meant that surely he must still be extremely pissed. His hands had fallen away from Lucius’s neck and he found himself gazing at him, his eyes taking in all too much of his erstwhile partner’s (oh God, what a thought) body.

“Hmph.” It was not the most articulate answer, perhaps.

“Are you?”

Lucius had pressed close again, and was running long tapered fingers down his back. Sirius felt his head falling forward to rest on Lucius’s shoulder and jerked back hastily.

“Maybe you are,” said Lucius thoughtfully. “In which case…”

 _If he was drunk, he had an excuse,_ thought Sirius, and then wished that he hadn’t. He didn’t want Lucius to fuck him – hadn’t wanted it last night; didn’t want it now. His mind was repulsed by the idea. His body, unfortunately, was not.

“In which case – what?” Sirius’s voice was not as cutting as he had wanted it to be.

Lucius smiled.

“Oh, I think you can guess.”

“I’m not drunk. I’m sober, and…”

Oh God, Lucius was kissing him again, and their bodies melded into each other’s with frightening swiftness. And yes, yes, oh…

“Oh God,” said Sirius fervently, finding himself praying to a God he didn’t believe in.

“You could call me that.” Lucius was ever provocative – in more ways than one.

“I’m drunk,” Sirius said desperately. “I’m drunk and you’re taking advantage.”

“No,” Lucius said quietly. “No: what I’m taking is _you_. And you know it. You know it, and you want it.”

“No.” _Yes_. And the unspoken yes was so much louder than Sirius’s no: it was present in his hands, which were wrapping themselves around Lucius; in his mouth, which was clamouring for Lucius’s; in his cock, which was pressing with painful, reckless, hardness against Lucius’s leg.

They were on the bed again, Sirius lying beneath Lucius yet arching up to meet him.

“You’re sleeping with Snape.” The words were painfully drawn out of him.

The famous Malfoy eyebrow lifted.

“I see. You’re jealous.”

“ **What**?!” Sirius babbled in indignation. “No, that’s not what I meant…”

Lucius smiled cynically.

“You want to know what it’s like when I’m inside him,” he said softly, pushing a finger into Sirius, playing it back and forth with elegant ease.

“No!”

The finger was replaced by two; Lucius muttered a spell he clearly knew well, and the fingers were wet and sticky as they stroked.

“You want to know,” he said deliberately, removing his fingers and sliding himself inside Sirius, “what Severus looks like when I fuck him. You want to know whether he begs and pleads for more; whether he’s soft and pliant, or hard and furious.”

“N…No…” Sirius was finding it difficult to concentrate on Lucius’s words as he slid back and forth, the movement and pressure giving him exquisite pleasure. “Oh, fuck.” The words were drawn out of him against his will.

“Yes.” Lucius was holding Sirius’s gaze; and though Sirius would have liked to close his eyes, it wasn’t possible with that powerful hypnotic stare. “You want to know whether he’s good, and how good. And, Sirius? Oh, he’s good.”

“Shut up,” panted Sirius, loathing Lucius more with every moment. Loathing and lusting – an agonisingly irresistible combination.

“Beg me.”

“What?”

“Beg me to stop, and I will. Otherwise, I’ll tell you everything. How Severus feels around me. How he bucks under me. How he…”

“Stop!”

“Ask nicely.”

Lucius was rocking firmly against Sirius, his hand gently teasing his erection. His tongue licked at his lips, and his eyes… his eyes never left Sirius’s.

“Lucius, for fuck’s sake…” gasped Sirius, eyes wide and frantic.

Lucius halted a second; pressed his lips, very gently, to Sirius’s.

“What?” he asked.

Sirius shut his eyes.

“Oh shit. Please.”

He would regret this tomorrow, Sirius knew. Hell, he would regret it in an hour’s time. But now – oh God, now was all that mattered, with Lucius touching him, taking him… _fucking_ him.

“Good boy,” said Lucius mockingly; but Sirius had no time to concentrate on his words. He was taken up, consumed by the feelings as Lucius touched and teased; pressed and pulled away.

His hands were moving over the smooth expanse of Lucius’s chest, revelling in the muscular outline. Somehow, despite his best efforts, his eyes wouldn’t stay open: it was as if the tumultuous effect on his senses was too much, too strong, that something had to give way. He could hear Lucius’s breathing becoming heavier; knew that Lucius wanted this (nearly) as much as he. He was not a passive pawn manipulated by Lucius, but a consenting, actively participating adult. The realisation both shocked and excited him, but he had no time – no _mind_ \- to dwell on this. His body took up every element of him, as he bucked and groaned with the ecstatic pleasure that Lucius was giving him.

He could not hold off his orgasm for long, not with Lucius touching him there, like _that_. Sirius stiffened; sighed… pulsed with Lucius’s firm strong fingers wrapped around his cock. Lucius thrust again inside him – once, twice, three, four times – and then Lucius himself came, a catch in his breathing being the only external sign he gave.

“Oh God,” said Sirius as his pulse rate lowered. “Oh God;” again, realising what had just happened; what he had just allowed – no, worse, promoted.

Lucius was sweaty and out of breath, but his inner detachment remained.

“I’m glad it was that good,” he said coolly.

Sirius rolled over, away from Lucius, burying his head in the pillow. What had he done? **What had he done?** The truth was, he knew only too well what he’d done. The worst truth? He’d do the same again, given the opportunity. Hating himself and Lucius in equal measures, he kept silent, his teeth biting into his arm with a fierce angry pressure that he could not convey aloud.

“Sirius…” Lucius’s voice was actually gentle; almost warm.

“No.” Sirius’s eyes were screwed shut.

“You don’t have to remember. If you wish not to.”

Memory modification. Lucius was good at that spell. But it was spineless to agree; weak to give away part of his past just to keep from guilt. No Black worthy of the name would agree to such oblivion.

Except… could Sirius live, could he cope with the memory of Lucius – how much he had wanted him, how desperately, how humiliatingly Sirius had begged for his touch… Could he live each day remembering; knowing that it would never happen again?

Peace was offered. Peace and respite from his turbulent mind.

“I wish not to remember,” Sirius said painfully, his voice muffled by his pillow.

Yes, it was cowardly; yes it was unworthy of a Black; _yes_ , it was blessed relief. He kept his face averted as Lucius sighed and cast the spell, leaving Sirius, mind blank, semi-conscious on the bed.

“One day. One day you will not say that,” Lucius said quietly; and he Disapparated. 


End file.
